


People Like You

by hellbentiero



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Artist Gerard Way, Artist!Gerard - Freeform, M/M, Prostitute Frank Iero, Prostitute!Frank, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellbentiero/pseuds/hellbentiero
Summary: Gerard is a struggling artist living in a dingy neighborhood where he sees Frank making his money in the streets every night.





	People Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Totally unrealistic. Totally naive.

The first time Gerard saw him was on a cold Saturday evening. He knew what was going on in his neighborhood, everyone did, but he kept to himself and was no part of it because he had been clean and on the good side of the law since graduating from college a year prior.

But being at the very beginning of his career and drowning in student loans, he couldn't afford a better part of the city, so it had quickly become routine for him to pass by certain corners on his way home, careful not to pay attention and get past quickly in his locked car. 

He didn’t know why the boy stood out to him like that, but he felt his heart skip a beat as he spotted him in the dim streetlights leaning against a dirty brick wall, his face as cold as the temperatures. Gerard could only spare a moment so he wouldn’t lose control over his car and cause a crash, but it was long enough for him to understand what the boy was doing there. With an old leather jacket way too thin to keep someone warm, no bags, torn jeans and a t-shirt with a low neck, his slim silhouette relaxed and confident, clearly not in a rush as if he was waiting for someone, the artist had a clue right away.  

The guy in the frayed clothes didn’t clearly indicate his occupation, of course, so Gerard couldn’t be sure, but nobody only hung out around here looking like him. He had to have something to do with drugs, prostitution or both, because that’s what all those kids did, as sad as it was. Whether he dealt in the streets, waited for something for himself or was going to make money with his body, Gerard didn’t know, but the chances were small that he was just waiting for a friend. There was nothing special about whatever he was doing because he was certainly not the only one and even the police had mostly given up on the problematic situation around here since it didn’t seem fixable with the crime and poverty rates this high and the work and education opportunities so terrible, but there was something that made him stand out, something that made Gerard look for the first time after avoiding the people in the streets day by day for months, reducing their lives to faceless masks he shuffled by. 

Something in his dark eyes caught his breath in his throat for a moment and almost made him miss his turn, his knuckles turning white as he instinctively gripped the steering wheel tighter. It had been an accident that he had looked at his face, a moment of carelessness after carefully avoiding his emotions to surface whenever these miserable lives were near him. 

He didn’t want to feel sorry for strangers; it wouldn’t fix anything and only make himself more miserable. Whether those people were to blame for their situations or victims of social injustice didn’t matter because Gerard was neither a politician, nor a social worker, and he had his own business to worry about and didn’t need to add anyone else’s, especially considering this was about people whose names he didn’t even know. He didn’t have the time to feel sorry or the money to help anyone. But this crucial moment of his eyes fixating on that pale skin started a churning in his stomach that didn’t end when he finally saw his street sign and knew he was only a minute away from unlocking his shabby brown front door. 

Spending his evening cooking a quick dinner and relaxing in front of his TV with a beer as usual, he tried to shrug it off, but the feeling wouldn't leave him and he cursed himself for being stupid enough to let himself get distracted like that and take in the beautiful young man's features after successfully ignoring the existence of those so-called low lives on the streets of his neighborhood. What he didn't expect, though, was that it would not have been the last time for him to see the stranger. 

As frustrating as Gerard's position in his work field was due to his lack of recognition and experience, he couldn't deny that it always kept him busy, so he spent the following several days either in the office working on his storyboards or at home resting and didn't even have the time to step outside those two buildings or think about the pretty stranger until an entire week had passed by and he was so wrung out that he didn't even have the energy to buy groceries and decided to pick up some pizza instead (the delivery always took way too long). The only place nearby that offered some decent food was only a short walk away, so Gerard enjoyed some time in the fresh air of the early evening instead of taking his car, passing by one of the many infamous corners on his way. Usually, he would have kept his head down and his hands busy with his phone or a cigarette, walking quickly and not wanting to cause trouble or stand out, but he couldn't resist the temptation to look up this time when he knew he was passing by the spot where he had seen the boy who had been reappearing in his thoughts. 

Ashamed of himself because he felt a wave of disappointment when he couldn't see him, he shook his head to himself and quickly kept walking, but his gaze kept wandering and instantly got caught.   

He wasn't leaning against the same brick wall this time, but a few feet further away, his long fingers playing with the rolled cigarette he was holding and his eyes dropped to the ground absently. Mesmerized, Gerard unconsciously stopped dead in his tracks and found himself watching the boy take a deep drag, the transparent smoke dissolving into thin air as he slowly breathed it through his full lips, and didn't notice what he was doing until someone bumped into him from behind, a string of curse words falling from the elder man's lips, and Gerard wanted to apologize, but all he could do was take a step out of the man's way and accidentally towards the person who had caused his distraction. Because of the little scene he had caused, it wasn't a surprise that he had raised attention to himself without wanting to do so, and his cheeks flamed red when a voice spoke up in his direction. 

"You alright, dude?" someone asked, and he wanted the ground to swallow him as he saw who it was. His voice was softer than he had expected it to be and followed by a small chuckle.

"Oh, shit, yeah," Gerard stupidly rambled as a response, unsure whether he should approach or get away, but the man made the decision for him by taking a step forward, startling Gerard once again.

"You don't look too good," he observed and his brows furrowed as he looked Gerard up and down as if he expected him to faint the next moment. "I just got... distracted," he admitted shyly, his gaze dropping, but the stranger tried to find it again, one hand still holding the cigarette and the other one sympathetically on Gerard's shoulder for a moment, setting his entire body ablaze.  

"You feeling sick or something?" he asked calmly and Gerard was quick to shake his head, not daring to make a move with the man right in front of him, studying his features. "You shouldn't run around here alone like that," he continued, "doesn't seem like your kinda place." That confused the artist and he looked up at the hazel eyes that were still watching him closely. "What?"  

"Just saying, it ain't safe," he pointed out holding his hands up, already prepared to defend himself against an aggressive reaction, but that didn't come.

"No... I... I live here," Gerard found himself admitting dumbly instead, wondering why the hell he had even said that and why he wasn't leaving already.

"Here?" the guy repeated, looking confused, "In the streets?"

"What? No, no," Gerard immediately shook his head, even more embarrassed now which seemed to both confuse and amuse his new conversation partner, "my apartment is around the corner," he was finally capable of saying quietly.

"Oh, right," the dude nodded, stubbing out his cigarette on the asphalt, and he seemed to understand a bit more now. "Haven't seen you here before. People like you usually don't walk around."  

Instead of replying, he could only repeat, "People like me?"

The guy didn't seem to want to offend him and just made a casual movement with his hand to emphasize his words. "You know, people who have nothing to do with the stuff that happens around here. You know what I mean." Everyone vaguely knew what he meant, but even Gerard knew that nobody spoke about it, so he just nodded slightly.

"I was just... getting pizza," he confessed with the urge to slap himself for being so incredibly awkward. Here he was in front of an insanely pretty drug dealer or prostitute in the streets on an early Friday evening telling him about his lonely pizza plans after almost running into him. Now he knew why his brother Mikey always told him he should get out more and spend more time with other human beings he was not related to. His social skills truly were a joke.

The criminal, or at least that's what he seemed to be- which really should upset Gerard but somehow didn't because all he found himself thinking was how pretty those eyes were when they sparkled at him- laughed at that, patting Gerard's shoulder again and releasing all kinds of shock waves throughout his arms and chest. "You're weird, man," he said, but not like an insult, "I like it." 

"Thanks?" That earned him another laugh and the guy took a step back to reach out to Gerard with one of his slightly bruised hands and it took Gerard another shameful moment to understand he was supposed to shake it, and it was surprisingly warm despite the fresh air and the man's rather scanty choice of clothing. He was a small dude, but didn't look as young as Gerard had thought at first, and that thought was a little reassuring. Someone in his early twenties working in the streets was sad too, but not as tragic as a minor.

"I'm Frank," he introduced himself, and it pleasantly surprised Gerard that he was given his name just like that, like it was some sort of very personal detail not everyone got to know. That's what people in the streets were like, weren't they? Gerard didn't expect them to be open and upfront.

"Gerard," he responded quietly and quickly wiped his hands on his jeans because his palms were sweating by now, but Frank luckily didn't seem to notice. His thoughts ran wild as he tried to settle on the right words because he really wanted to keep the conversation going. Fortunately, Frank was a faster talker.

"You do this a lot, Gerard? Wander through sketchy areas by yourself to grab pizza?" It was accompanied by a grin and not to be taken seriously, but Gerard still felt the need to justify his actions. "I just... I wanted to get out and the pizza place is close, you know? And cooking, you know... I was tired and..."

But Frank cut him off with a friendly laugh and shook his head. "Hey, don't get all flustered, you weirdo. I'd never miss out on pizza either." That struck something inside Gerard and he licked his dry lips and nervously fumbled with his cold fingers while trying to speak up with his stupid sudden idea, "You, um, you could come with me and get pizza?" he forced out and immediately wanted to take it back because he already expected rejection and further embarrassment. He should have just stayed at home. Human interaction never ended well for him. 

"You serious right now?" Frank assured himself, now visibly suspicious because he clearly doubted Gerard's intentions. "Wow, you didn't seem like that kinda guy, to be honest," he sighed, shaking his head, and Gerard had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean. "I mean, sure, I know I'm cheap, but  _that_  cheap?" Gerard's unresponsiveness was taken as confirmation instead of misunderstanding, and Frank looked, what, disappointed? "I do a lot for a little, I know, but I don't sell myself for fucking _pizza_. That's just... dude." He shook his head again sighing. "I didn't expect a guy like you to..." 

"What? No!" The sudden increase of volume in his voice startled not only Frank but also a group of sketchy-looking twenty-somethings nearby who threw distrustful glances but didn't say anything. Unless someone stopped breathing, no one ever said anything. "That's not what I meant at all! Frank, seriously, I just..." 

"Oh please, stop it already." Frank rolled his eyes, his entire posture stiffened now as he took a step back, ready to end their talk and return to the questionable things he had planned on doing around here. "Save it. I just wanted to make sure you're alright and you think I'll do what, blow you for pizza? That's just sad, man," he shrugged and Gerard was certain that he hadn't even been so ashamed when wetting his bed after his first horror movie in elementary school.

"No! That's not what I mean! Seriously, I don't..." He was lost for a moment, desperately scrambling for something that would fix this, and his visibly intense distress was probably the only reason why Frank was still listening and standing a foot away from him, watching him with a crease on his forehead. 

"I'm awkward, I'm sorry," he said first, biting his lip, and Frank almost smiled again, but only almost, "but really, I wasn't offering you pizza for..." He took a breath. "Anything. I just asked if you wanted pizza, you know? Just... pizza. No..." He couldn't say 'sex' or 'blowjob', could he? No, he definitely couldn't. "No strings attached," he eventually settled, knowing how fucking stupid he sounded. "Really, just pizza." 

"Really?" Frank was the confused one now. "Are you serious right now?" 

"Yeah," Gerard breathed, his lip almost bloody from biting it so hard right now, and he awkwardly shuffled his feet. "I don't, god, I don't want anything from you, believe me. You said that about pizza and I like pizza and you looked hungry and I thought..." 

"So what is this instead? A pity party?” They stared at each other in disbelief for a second and Frank made a smacking sound with his tongue. “Fuck, thinking I’m such a cheap whore that I fuck for a quick dinner is one thing, but thinking I need someone’s fucking… charity? That’s a new low," Frank pointed out, keeping his tone on a normal level, but the anger was unmissable. "I'm nobody's fucking charity case, okay? I take care of my fucking self." 

"I..." At this point, Gerard was certain it could not possibly get any worse and he should just board up his apartment and never return to society. His brain was in a frenzy trying to make up something, anything to fix things after messing them up this incredibly bad over the course of two minutes. Fucking up to this extent this fast had to be a record, and to make it even more embarrassing, Gerard felt horrible because of it.  Frank was not only a stranger, but a criminal in the streets as well, and yet Gerard was willing to do anything to earn his forgiveness. He didn't want Frank to think of him as such an asshole. He wanted to be liked by him.

"I never meant it that way, believe me," he tried weakly, his head falling so he could avoid those judging eyes in front of him.

"Really?" Frank picked up on that, "Then how did you mean it?"

That was the hard part. "I just thought... you were nice... and you like pizza, and I was having pizza, you know?" Suddenly, Frank burst into laughter again, making Gerard question his mood swings, and if his pretty eyes and smooth skin didn't look so normal, Gerard would have sworn he was high.

"Wait, are you really that desperate, dude?" he suddenly laughed, and Gerard took a step back, realizing that actually hurt. "So desperate you want to just have a casual dinner with a whore from the streets?"  

"That was rude," Gerard muttered, and his cheeks continued to heat up.  

"And true," Frank added, and there was a sting in Gerard's chest, but he was glad the anger had faded from the cold air between them. He was humiliated, but his new acquaintance was smiling. Definitely better than a minute earlier.

"Well... I could use some company and you could use some food," he shrugged and hated himself so much at that very moment, but he couldn't pull out of this now and he actually did want that dinner with this pretty guy, despite whatever he did to make money. He had suspected that anyway, after all.

"Fucking weird," Frank shook his head again before shrugging as well. "I better not lose money because of you." And just like that, he turned his back on Gerard and started to continue down the sidewalk and away from his brick wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his shabby leather jacket.  

"Wait... So you are going with me now? All of a sudden?" The disbelief was evident and he almost tripped over his own feet again when catching up. "I hope you really are this sad a guy and not actually a really smart rapist and or serial killer," Frank simply replied, throwing his- date?- a glance. No, it wasn't really a date. That was absurd. They were strangers and one of them almost certainly a prostitute. It was just weird. Extremely weird. "I could say the same thing, though. I mean, you're the one doing sketchy things in the streets." 

"Sketchy things?" Frank laughed again, soothing and melodic. "I just fuck people to make a few bucks. A lot of people do that around here." 

He was so casual about it that Gerard didn't know how to react. "And you... like doing that?" That didn't seem to be the right thing to ask, but there was no manual regarding what and what not to say to hookers, as far as Gerard was concerned. 

"That's a little stretch," Frank chuckled, obviously not minding the level of awkwardness as they strolled down the street in the dim lights of the early evening. "But it's alright. I'm pretty, you know? There is nobody like me around here," he winked and Gerard was torn between blushing and laughing and eventually settled on both. "Nobody like you?"  

"Well, you know, look at me!" He exaggeratedly pointed at himself. "Young, male, pretty? And you should see my tattoos! A dream come true."  

"Whose dream?" Gerard had never had a conversation this strange in his entire life.

"You wanna know what kind of people I screw for money?" Frank asked, a brow raised firmly and this time Gerard knew it was clearly his intention to make him squirm uncomfortably. "What? No! I just..." 

"Oh man, you got to relax. I'm just messing with you." He snickered and then actually proceeded with an answer. His relaxed attitude was a relief, but very confusing as well. "Well, the regulars are always the same dudes. They're all having their mid-life crisis, their bodies going to hell, their marriages a cheap fake and their teenage dreams of seeing the world and living a wild life as far away as they could be. I'm like... a taste of what they could have had," he shrugged like it was no big deal at all.  

"But... you're not living that life either," Gerard dared to point out looking at the shoes walking next to him that looked like they were falling apart at that very moment.

"No hard feelings, I know that," Frank was quick to agree, not offended at all, "but I look like that, you know? It's all about that... illusion." 

"You look like a teenage dream?" Gerard inquired, hands fiddling with the seams of his hoodie because he was afraid of messing up again any moment.

"No, no," Frank was quick to correct, "like a wild gay dude, beauty, youth, free spirit, all that shit sad old fucks want." 

"Wild and gay?" 

Frank laughed. "That's what you decided to focus on?" 

Gerard ducked his head again. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Straight dudes be like that." 

"I'm not..." 

"Oh, really? Huh. I guess I should've known. The awkwardness," Frank nodded and gave him a quick sideways look of approval. 

"You're not awkward, though."

"That's because of the free spirit shit," Frank pointed out with a grin.

"Right." He couldn't help but smile a little too.

"You do know where we're going, don't you?" Frank suddenly asked and Gerard nodded. "Sure. You don't know the pizza place a block from here?" 

"Yeah, I think I got some weed there at some point." 

"At the pizza place?"

Frank shrugged. "Back then, sure. But I don't do anything anymore, not even weed. Makes me paranoid." 

Gerard understood that.

"You smoke?" Frank asked and Gerard shook his head. "I did in college." 

"Of course." 

"What?" 

"You're one of the good kids, went to college, made your parents proud, experimented, found yourself, blah blah blah." 

"That's not..." 

"And yet you live in this shit neighborhood. I thought the college kids were better off." 

"I only graduated a year ago," Gerard defended himself.

"And yet you're still here," Frank stated.

"Well, I'm getting somewhere. I think." 

"Doesn't sound too sure," Frank noted and Gerard found himself shrinking under his gaze. "You're rude." 

Frank shrugged. "What are you doing then?" 

Gerard knew how that would sound, so he cleared his throat first. "I... I'm an artist," he admitted, ready for the laughter. Nobody ever took him seriously.

"Seriously?" 

"Well... yeah."

"You draw pretty paintings for pretty people?" Of course. He was being made fun of.

"Not that kind."

"What kind?" Frank continued to inquire and Gerard shrugged. "Illustration, cartoons, graphic novels, that kinda stuff, you know?" 

"Oh" was all Frank said and Gerard didn't know how to place that. "What?" 

Instead of another joke, he heard, "That sounds nice." 

"It would be if I had better commissions," Gerard muttered, reminded of his pitiful situation.

"But you're getting somewhere, right?" Frank repeated his words.

"It's just hard to make those connections. Make people notice you." 

"Is it?" Frank asked.

"I guess?"

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine," Frank chuckled.

"Aren't you supposed to be a free spirit and roaming the world?" Gerard shot back and Frank was quick to protest. "I used to be! I was in a band! It just... got a bit fucked up." His voice got quieter towards the end, and Gerard understood what that was like. "Things tend to do that," he said softly. 

"Get fucked up?" 

"Yeah." 

"Huh." 

They arrived at the restaurant soon after that, ending the uneasy silence, and Gerard picked a booth in the corner, far away from other people. He was afraid Frank would think he wanted to hide for a moment, but he nodded again, showing his approval, and they both ordered light beer.

"So Gerard," Frank began and opened his menu, "tell me something about myself." As usual, he startled Gerard. "About myself?" After another encouraging nod, he still struggled to reply. "Um, I think you already know a lot about me... considering I only told you my name less than half an hour ago." 

"Fair point," Frank agreed, "but that's not what I mean." 

"It's not?" Gerard tried to keep himself busy with his menu too, but he always ate the exact same pizza.

"No. I don't want the bullshit you write in your CV like the shit about college and your job."

"You don't?"

"That's not what makes a person who they are," Frank explained, and Gerard didn't know if this was profound or fake deep bullshit. "Then what makes a person who they are? 

"It's not about what you do, Gerard."

"Then what is it about?" he tried again and gave up on using the menu for procrastination because it only made him feel more awkward anyway.

"Simple. What you like. What you're interested in, how you think, you know? That's you. Not your fucking job. Don't look at me like that." 

"I'm not looking!" Gerard lied, caught staring at the pretty man across the table from him.

"Yes, you are. I know that look. You think I just say this cause I sell myself for sex." 

That was not the look Gerard had been giving him. "No!" 

"Hey, I'm not mad at you or anything. You can admit it. It is true." 

"No, I'd never think of you-" 

"Whatever," Frank shrugged it off and flipped the page in his menu, "what is it you're interested in? Other than comics and graphic novels? Cause I think you know about that part."

"Right." Gerard thought about that. "I don't really think I'm into anything interesting, really."

"That's a shame." Frank closed the menu. "I always eat the same pizza anyway."

"Me too," Gerard muttered and they both smiled. 

"Black olives, mushrooms and extra cheese, thin crust," Frank revealed and Gerard grimaced. "That's disgusting."

"Let me guess. There's meat on yours?"

"Pizza isn't pizza without bacon," Gerard firmly stated and Frank rolled his eyes. "American bullshit."

"You're American too!"

"But I don't eat gross pizza."

"Black olives!" Gerard exclaimed and only earned a huff. "Fried stripes of dead pigs."

"I can't believe there are vegetarian hookers," Gerard replied before he could think, but Frank laughed again. "We do have taste when we find the time to eat, you know." Silence fell over their table again after that, but it was comfortable and after placing their orders they judged each other for, they resumed their conversation where it had been left off before drifting off into pizza toppings. 

"So, about me?" Gerard tried and Frank looked up. "I just... I guess I like what everyone likes?"

"And that is?"

"Coffee?" 

Frank nodded. "Relatable"

"Dogs?" 

That peeked interest. "You have any?"

"Hell no. I can barely keep the cactus in my kitchen alive."

"Relatable," Frank repeated, this time with a smile.

"Do you have... pets?" 

He got a look for that. "You think I sleep in the streets, don't you?" 

"I never said that!"

"You don't deny it either." He remained calm, but had his arms crossed now.

"I'm sorry if-"

"Your endless apologies are a bit annoying. And actually, I am technically homeless," he admitted as casual as if he was discussing the weather, and when the shock was written all over Gerard's face, he was quick to continue his sentence, "But I don't sleep in streets. I have places to go."

"Your... customers?" Gerard was horrified, but Frank shrugged. "When I have no other options, but usually... no. Creepy." That was good to hear. "So where do you live?"

"I don't _live_ anywhere, but I sleep at lots of different places. I know people."

"And right now?" Gerard questioned, increasingly worried.

"There is this barista I hooked up with at some point right now," Frank shrugged again.

That didn't sound too great. "And after that?" 

"Who knows? We'll see."

"You seem awfully relaxed," Gerard noted. He himself already panicked and drew horror scenarios when he couldn't pay his gas bill again, but Frank seemed perfectly fine with living on people's couches.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's easy for me to find a bed and a bathroom. That's all I need."

"You have no personal belongings?"  
"Sure I do," Frank said, "but they all fit in one duffel bag."

Gerard imagined his belongings in a duffel bag and no, that wouldn't work for the bag. "Wow."  

"I know. You'll probably need three of those only for your comic books, right?" He grinned. "Don't deny it. So?"

"So what?"

"What else do people like?" Frank picked up.

"Um, music, I guess?"

Because of Frank's band past, that seemed to work. "What kind of music are you into?"

"Different kinds?" 

Frank rolled his eyes hard enough they risked getting stuck in his skull. "Oh, come on. Favorite bands?"

"There aren't many new ones that get me excited, to be honest," Gerard confessed, thinking of his eighties collection.

"Then what does get you excited?" Gerard hated how sexual that sounded to his stupid ears because if there was one thing he didn't want, then it was becoming one of the creeps Frank had to deal with on a daily basis. 

"Bowie has probably always been my biggest inspiration," he finally said, hoping he didn't sound pretentious.

"Why him?" was all Frank asked, his eyes never leaving Gerard, always watching, always observing, and Gerard felt like his skin was burning up under the watch of those pretty eyes.

"Everything about him always... captivated me. Everything about him was art in every way I wanted mine to be." It was vague, but he didn't know how to explain the way he felt.

"That's vague," Frank stated the obvious.

"Let me put it this way," Gerard tried then, "Bowie never let anyone define him. He didn't give a shit what anyone said- and he knew exactly what they were saying. He just didn't care. He did this thing and let them talk." 

"What's so artsy about that?"

"How free and careless he was. How proud. How brave. And then of course... his music. He always had a concept, a topic, a theme nobody had had before, and even the music itself was always different. You couldn't even define the genre sometimes. It was always special, always extraordinary, you know?"

Frank looked like he got it. "I know."

"He could fucking do anything. Pulled concept records about post-apocalyptic worlds when people still judged artists for swaying their hips suggestively, wrote lyrics Christians wanted crossed out, jumped through every wormhole and reinvented himself with every album."

Frank was silent, but he nodded, so Gerard thought it was safe to continue. "And the covers... Always insane, always breathtaking, always different. No rules. No explanations. Fucking art, man, no justifications. And his fucking outfits? He wore dresses in the sixties and blue eyeshadow in the seventies, for god's sakes." 

"And there was a lot of glitter and sparkling," Frank added, and Gerard got excited. "There was! And the heels! The skin-tight stuff! And did he ever bother to speak about gender or gender identity or even think about gender roles? He didn't give a freaking damn although the world was looking! Talking! Always!"

"His lyrics too," Frank reminded him and Gerard wanted to smash his fist on the table. "Oh god, yes. His lyrics. His lyrics had fucking... everything. Faith and the world, the future and the past, his life and someone else's, love, passion, weird shit, drugs, sex, pain..." 

"Space," Frank stated the obvious again.

"And aliens." 

"The apocalypse."

"Sexuality. And let's not be too basic, but Rebel Rebel is the first trans song to successfully make it out there in the world and I will never step down from that statement," Gerard said confidently and got a curious look. "You think he was trans?"

"I think he never cared to label himself. He just did his thing. But the song? The song was trans. In the fucking seventies, you know?"

"I'm not saying you're wrong."

"You're not saying I'm right either." 

"I agree that there are very few people who could ever be as talented as him," Frank responded and Gerard shook his head. "Not just talent... Everything. Skills, beauty, class, timelessness, courage, bravery. Grace."

"Grace?"

"He never lost his faith or face."

"He had lots of scandals!"

"Well, everyone did drugs. Of course he did too." Gerard gave him a _duh_ look.

"Wasn't his brother schizophrenic?" 

"Is he his brother?"

"Don't get all defensive! I am just saying!"

"Also, it's an illness and not a scandal," Gerard said and Frank gestured wildly with his hands. "I never said it was a scandal! But what do you say about the sex scandals?"

"He fucked lots of people. Why wouldn't he have? Have you looked at him? I would've done the same thing with that face."

"And those eyes," Frank agreed. 

"Definitely."

"The egg in horse urine though," Frank chuckled and Gerard was startled. "The what in what?" 

"You didn't know?" Frank looked surprised. Gerard looked confused. "Didn't know what?"

"Some say John Lennon shoved a super old egg cooked in horse urine into his mouth."

Gerard wanted to gag, but scoffed instead. "Whoever said that probably doesn't even believe it themselves."

"Probably."

"It's just... he always inspired me so much and still does because he had no rules, no boundaries. Everything he did was so bright, so insane," Gerard sighed and Frank looked at him funny. "The Daily Mail once said he had orgies and almost fucked a corpse, though."

"The Daily Mail is probably the worst newspaper ever," Gerard returned and got another one of those shrugs. "Very true."

"Have you ever seen The Hunger?" Gerard asked then and Frank looked up again. "The what?"

"You haven't!" Gerard finally triumphed over Frank for once. "Oh god! You have to see it!"

Frank still looked confused and Gerard could get used to him being the one looking like that. "What is it?"

"It's this super wild movie Bowie was in!"

"I've seen movies with him... He was a great actor," Frank nodded, but Gerard didn't let up.

"But you haven't seen that one! It's this vampire horror movie, but it's also soft porn! Super wild."

Frank blinked. "Oh wow."

"You've got to watch it," Gerard repeated.

"I'll keep it in mind," Frank said, expression unreadable.

"I'll watch it with you," Gerard offered hesitantly, but Frank took the date invitation the wrong way. "You think I'm too pussy for vampire soft porn?"

"That's sexist."

"The word pussy?"

"That you use it to indicate weakness," Gerard explained.

"Ah shut up, college kid," Frank scolded.

"But you have to-"

"I'll watch The Hunger with you!" Frank laughed and Gerard had to hold on for a second to grasp that. "Really? You will?"

"Yeah. I just decided that. We gotta do that," Frank agreed, still very casual, and didn't seem to realize he had accepted Gerard's subtle date invitation, and Gerard was a stranger.

"You don't even know me," Gerard pointed out again, always startled by the other's spontaneous decisions.

"I'm getting to know you right now right here."

"I don't even know you," Gerard realized.

"Ask me stuff then," Frank offered.

"Anything?"

"Sure. I can still refuse to answer."

Gerard wondered if he was in a place to ask that question, but couldn't contain himself. "Do you date?" he blurted out. 

"Do I what?" Frank didn't look pleased.

"You said anything!"

"And that's the first thing you want to know about me?"

"Well because you're..." He couldn't finish the sentence and make it more awkward, but when he expected anger, there was none.

"Yeah, I get it. And no, not anymore."

"And that means..."

"That I tried. And it went to crap. Shit happens."

"Oh. Okay, I get that," Gerard said. He didn't get Frank's situation, but he sure did understand disastrous dating experiences.

"Do you date?"

"I tried too," Gerard offered weakly. The look he was given was soft. "Went to shit?" 

"Kind of."

"You still love them?"

Gerard almost laughed. "Hell no. That was at the beginning of college. Haven't been able to do more than three dates since. You?" He was fast to return the attention to Frank because he knew how pathetic he sounded.

"I still what?"  
"Love them?"   
"Hell no. I never did."

"That's harsh," Gerard observed, but Frank simply shrugged as always, "It's just honest. I'd rather hurt people than lie to them." 

"You could be nice while being honest?"

"I am nice to you right now," Frank protested. 

"Are you really?"

"You're paying for the pizza," Frank demanded, but they were both smiling. "Like you ever intended to pay in the first place."

"You got me there." He was only quiet for a moment before saying, "speaking of the devil..." 

"What are you talking about?" Gerard stared at him.  
"Our food, dumbass!"

"Oh."

"What, did you think your ex was gonna pop up?"  
"You're a dick," Gerard muttered. 

"So I've been told." 

The waitress set down their plates with a kind smile and Gerard had been so busy staring at Frank that he actually hadn't noticed her approach at all. "Thank you very much," Frank was fast to say, suddenly proving he did have manners, and she was pleased. "Anything else I can get for you?"

"No, thanks. We're good." Frank's tone almost indicated flirting and that confused Gerard even further.

"We're wonderful," Gerard found himself saying, still staring at Frank, and she left.

"Shut up," Gerard said before Frank could make fun of him.

"What? I was being nice," Frank defended himself while cutting the pizza into way too big slices.

"Eat your pizza," Gerard muttered, embarrassed again, and cut his own pizza like a normal human being. "It looks really good," he said and Frank was already busy picking up his first slice. "Never seen pizza?" 

"I was just making conversation!"

He shoved a gigantic bite into his mouth the next moment and Gerard wanted to focus on his own food, but it was impossible with Frank eating like a wolf puppy.

"I was starting to think you had manners," he said and Frank had sauce dribbling down his chin, "but I was wrong."

Frank didn't seem bothered by his own table manners that resembled those of cavemen and swallowed the slice faster than he could possibly chew it.

It was hard to talk with that much pizza in one's mouth too, so they ate in silence and Gerard wondered how Frank could even be such an insanely attractive human with behaviors like that. 

 

"You want to know more stuff about me?" Frank finally asked when they were almost finished and he had cheese on his nose, what the fuck.

"Were you raised by wolves?"

"We're in the corner booth, chill." Frank wiped sauce off his shirt. Watching him do his thing, Gerard said, "I'm not sure what I can ask, to be honest." 

"Give it a shot." 

"How many tattoos do you have?" He asked looking at the long sleeves of Frank's shirt. What peeked out from beneath was definitely some ink and it seemed to cover his forearms.

"Oh, too many to count." Frank made a dismissive hand gesture.

Gerard's eyes widened because damn, that was hot. "That many?"

"I'm too lazy to count."

"What's your favorite?" 

"Don't really have one. I wouldn't have them if I didn't like them." 

"What was your first one?" Gerard asked instead, but that didn't bring grand insight either.

"Hell, I don't know. I was sixteen and stupid." 

"What are they about?" Gerard kept trying because damn, he wanted something about those tattoos that covered the hooker's lean body.

"Mostly bands, music, things I like. Pretty things." 

"Do they have meanings?"

Frank smacked with his lips. "Some do. Not all of them. They're art. You should know how it goes." He drained his glass. "Do you want me to leave, or do you want to have another beer?" 

His bluntness was admirable and Gerard didn't even have to think about his answer. "I'll order two more. You got anywhere to be?"

"Not at all." 


End file.
